"dejected" poems
Whirlpool of whirling quaint
Inequality brewing in the
Winepress of smithereens
Fragile polity.
Voices of weariness cried
Out from the wasteyard of
Waste for succour,
Pointing fingers of
Recrimination towards
The abyss of drouth ,
Entangled in conflicts
Of interest.
Winds of improvised emblem
Bearing hunchback of
Woes,
Raising hands from the
Drowning deep sea
For rescue like
A dejected beautiful
Vigaro in a
Turbulent ocean of quarrel
With her spouse.
Whereas reddish fluids of life
Runs across the same veins
And arteries of haves
And haves-not but
Cottage of interests
Hoisting avalanche of
Rainbow-coloured flags
Standing aloof on the
Pole of misrule,
Demarcating their interests.
No accommodation for wants
In the corridor of affluence.
Wants on a trade mission
With wealthy but caged in
The confinement of wealth.
Winds of inequality blew
Whirler of wants into
The marrow of the
Haves-not.
Rains of inequality passing
Through a lockage of lack
Into the improvised,
Doling-out poverty to
Gain the control of
Wealth.
Alas! Blindness sees inner
Vision of darkness from
The households of political
lamia.
Alas! Deafness hears
Discordant vague voices
Of failure from the forest
of frustration.
Alas! Dumbness speaks
Language of gnomes out
Of the vale of forgotten
treasures.
Alas! A four year tenancy
turning into decades
of challenges.
But we shall revive our hope
and raise our voices
tomorrow.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 8:19 AM UTC
•
You are the king,
*That catches his queen,
When she fall,*
*Encourages and inspires her,
When she's dejected,*
*Pick and carry her,
When she stumble down,*
*Wipe her tears,
When she cry,*
*Comforts her,
When she feels unworthy to be loved,*
*Sings for her,
When she's lonesome,*
**And will give her all pure love and loyalty,
That the king could ever ever give,
More than the queen could ever ever imagine.**
The queen will be just the happiest,
And will give the king,
All the love he needed,
All the care,
All the attention he needed,
All the time,
All the effort,
All true loyalty,
She will give everything just for her king...
'Cause that's what love is right?
The queen will just give him the best thing,
The unconditional and unfeigned love.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
****** Up**
Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life
Not seen not heard not wanted
But that's just life isnt it?
People not caring
Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life
Alone abused abandoned
Friends aren't there
Parents don't care
Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life
Dejected deserted neglected
Living a lie
Begging to die
Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life
Shattered crushed broken
Vitals failing
Everyone's bailing
Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life
Exhausted ruined drained
Hopelessness surrounds her
Life is a blur
Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life
Not seen not heard not wanted
But that's what life is isnt it?
People not caring
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
People take the world as they see it themselves
some see black
some see white
many see grey
as for me?
I see it for what it is....technicolored.
Life is far to wonderful and bright too see it as simple black
it is too deep and mysterious to be only white
it is too exciting and amazing to be described as grey
There's a reason that there is color present everywhere.
If the world were colorless, so life would be.
But the autumn leaves are crimson and gold and apricot
The halls in which we walk are of light saphron and amber
The city streets in which we trod are spurted with shades of periwinkle and magenta
The meadows through which we stroll have flowers of violet and buds of rose
The trees with which we have our yuletide celebration are the solemn green
Life is as we see it
dont be strapped down to bland colors like
grey white black
Life is color
Furious Scarlet
Dejected Sapphire
Joyful Fuscia
Envious Sage
Playful Yellow
Even as you look in the mirror, colors are shown to you.
I see
eyes of chocolate
cheeks of mauve
teeth of pearl
lips of ruby
skin of gold
Even my soul is multicolored in all its numerous facets
Dont let yourself be barred into the cell of neutrality
See life for the rainbow that it truly is.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
I’m fine, thanks…
Is that what you truly mean?
Or do you mean
I’m tired…
I’m lonely…
I’m hurt…
Confused. Bewildered. Angered.
Disillusioned…
Skeptical…
Or maybe
I’m distressed…
I’m woeful…
I’m pathetic…
Lost. Vulnerable.
Infuriated…
Empty. Lifeless. Crushed. Tortured. Dejected. Offended. Afflicted.
Desolate. Desperate. Rejected. Heartbroken…
Tormented…
I’m scared…
I’m disgruntled…
Embarrassed…
Weak. Dreadful. Hungry. Aggravated.
Guilty… Shameful… Frustrated… Jealous… Horrified…
Overwhelmed…
Devastated…
Defeated…
Is fine ever what you truly mean?
Or is it a cover?
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS
*The tears flows in an endless way
Bemoaning the days of yore
Watching with eyes that sparks red,
Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore
Helpless and wishing for a relentless call
As tragedy hits her most sensitive part,
Bemoaning the tides,
All her days of glory,
Now a shadowy story*
*She had been ***** by her very own,
The children she yearned and bled for,
The men she fed and trained,
Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts
Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights,
Her nights of terror and horrors
Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness*
*It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to,
It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark,
But when they grew and flew,
She waited still
Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore*
*Then the dark hour rolled away,
And when morning came, it was harrowing.
It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected,
As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky,
Trampling her down,
Relegating and belittling her
Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore,
Where she laid all her virtues down,
Giving it all to see her children smile,*
*It is this dejection that has brought her to tears,
It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly
It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory,
As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony,
Forgetting her,
It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon*
*What is worse than a child abandoning his mother?
It is this penchant, that drives them
It is the love of greed,
It is the seed of corruption,
It is not an inherited trait,
It is a despicable decision
Like a monstrous shadow,
Twirling the back of the night.
It is the fire that burns within their heart,
The fire to **** steal and destroy
To take what she can never give again
To live,
To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony
It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch
And now tragedy looms,
It booms and blooms,*
A society written in flames
Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA?
Ovi Odiete© 2016, Oct. 31
All rights reserved
Note
Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
God said,
-through the Shaikh...
..be He blessed,
The news has come to me about the kind of calamity that will befall Baghdad.
Offering a supplication on behalf of the inhabitants of the city, praying they be spared. Saying, as God, dejected;
*Be my life for indeed someone in this city deserves to be killed and crucified! For one individual whom YOU honor, like thousands of others whom YOU shall have destroy them; You make us suffer for THEIR sins?*
WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?
YOU *have melted the pieces into ingots of the Godless and men?
You try to compete with the Prophets?
You claim to miracles?
You believe you speak the Word?
That you represent, in doing, by action?
Nay, -you serve the Jinn!*
This is the end of an Age,
Hypocrite!
Vanity is your loss.
* *...be not a deceiver...
(85:20)* *
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
We're not meant to be alone
We're not meant to be ignored
We tend to feel rejected, when we are ignored
We tend to feel dejected, when we are alone
Id like to think that anyway but sometimes we find ourselves being ignored and alone.
Id like to think I was the first person in your life to hear happy news.
Like the way a walk in the woods made you feel.
Perhaps how cold your toes got because your shoes were to thin.
Id rather not feel blue because my heart is true to you and when you are away my heart with you will stay
Id like to know how you feel behind that wall of steel, that for what ever reason you wont let me through, to the heart of you
Id like to be so close to you that you never need or feel the want to be away from me.
Id like to think that I was the one you went to when your heart is broke and bleeding and the tears wont fall any more
Id hope to be the one you see when in the mirror you look and dont want to see you staring back
Id hope to be the reason that you never look in the mirror and dont want to see your reflection looking out
Id like to think that when you need to cry the shirt I am wearing is the shoulder your resting your head on
Id hope that my arms are the ones you need and want around you when you feel you want a hug
Id like to be the only one you turn to when your not having a good day and your world is closing in
We as are not meant to be alone and we are not meant to be ignored. I will never ignore her and she will not be alone unless she wants to.
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 6:37 PM UTC
I went to see her.
The skinny doctor lady.
She tested my blood.
She tested my mind,
While waiting for the blood test.
Severely depressed.
I knew that, of course.
I have known since I was nine.
Just confirmation.
I told her my pain.
That all-over, horrid pain.
Everywhere. Always.
Fibromyalgia.
Silent, Invisible Pain.
It makes so much sense.
The blood tests came back.
Her drawn-in eyebrows furrowed.
I'm diabetic.
She looked so worried.
I am nearly anemic.
What else could go wrong?
Dejected, she said
I can't have children. Ever.
I am broken now.
Invisible pain.
Emotional. Physical.
No death to stop it.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
***She sits in shadows
Displaced by life
Forgotten by self
Dejected by all those Crows that fly Northwards
A Sparrow hawk calls
She remembers him but utters nothing
that is desirable
He flies onwards
Never to look upon her
Dark princess
Of lower grounds
She holds fast and keeps council with demons
Demons who roam the corridors of her soul
Pulling the cloak over her nakedness
as the stage illuminates the way
An actress of sorts
Another west end show
A vagabond who plays her hero
Darkness falls from her
And all who are touched by her fateful hand
Will linger no more in sun drenched meadows
Too bright to see
Too good to believe
Her fearfulness becomes her
Her innocence laid bare upon a slab of false regret
Be he gone from her mind
She may be free
For what lingers a princess in darkness
Than a love betrayed
The darkened hour may find its way into any heart
The broken man
Can do as he tries
But stumbles when he beholds her stare.***
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
I’ll be there tomorrow
at least one more time
as long as the sun comes up
and continues to shine
I’ll listen tomorrow
if your heart needs an ear
I’ll help carry your burden
and comfort your fear
I’ll kiss you tomorrow
if your lips feel neglected
I’ll lift up your chin
if you’re feeling dejected
I’ll love you tomorrow
more than I love you today
I’ll love you every tomorrow
and at least one more day
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
It was made of cement and lime,
And expected no praise or any rhyme.
It was placed in the park,
Amidst few trees and growing leaves.
He used to come on every twenty seventh,
On dot from 6 to 8 in this heaven.
He was punctual even in rain,
Determined to reach the bench in pain.
It was the bench who was the witness,
The only witness after God’s inference.
It is the bench who can answer,
The repeated questions he used to repeat.
He was so soft on that hard seat,
And waited for that long meet.
He used to be quite in his thoughts,
Recollecting the moments just passed.
He could speak only to his soul,
Sometimes to the bench in whole.
He cried inner in and outer out,
On that bench his heart out.
No matter what, he was always there,
Be it rain, a fever, omen happening,
Infected, dejected or rejected signing.
He was there , yes he was there on the bench.
The bench wished to speak,
For it could bare no more weight,
The weight of his heavy heart,
And his cry for the constant try.
He was told by many for its of no use,
To wait for the gone and the wrong.
But he was adamant to protect his chaste love,
And to defend his chaste vow.
After a year and after lockdown,
Now the bench is empty,
With no weight of him,
Nor the wait of her.
The bench seems to be happy for knowing,
That he has learned lessons from his love.
Though the bench could never speak,
Yet he always heard the voice beneath.
He no longer waits on the bench,
Nor has any tears to shed.
But he misses the bench,
More than her and less than her love.
Dedicated to the bench in that waiting park.
Thala Abhimanyu Kumar
Dated: 27/06/2020
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
This verse soundscape
is labelled dejected and angry.
Procrastinated
pockets
of
hope deferred
make the heart choke
in a vice-like
pressure cooker
tension filled
with
the cardiac solution called
LIFE
Think about it.
Tasting your own medicine
is
such a bitter pill to swallow.
They say
“Be the change that you want to see”
but
NO CHANGE
I see
on paths traveled
now
&
before
me.
Does this mean
the change I want to see
is
‘no change’
– a Spirit
personified
slowly
dying
yet
living
within you and me?
Think about it.
Tired of a dead lifes' heart attack?
then
SEE THROUGH
the change you want
to be.
On your journey
bitter pills do digest.
USING
the
MEMORY
of that
ill
taste
to heal
&
outlive
the sickness
prevalent in this
human
**RACE
?**
Think about it.
WHAT REALLY IS YOUR HURRY?
S L O W D O W N.
Can't you can see ?
GRAVES'
great joy
is
to
blind & thieve
"your grace"
leaving you
with just enough energy
to
kick the bucket,
while robbing you of understanding
that these
sweet words
origin
from
YOU
to
ME
reflecting
what 20-20
would let you
really see...
**You are Kings & Queens**
Think about it.
We are all connected unilaterally.
Put plainly;
we agree to disagree,
in the midst of the fact that
there can be
no lasting freedom
until there is a weathered
wisdom
of
UNITY.
So(w),
If you see her
hold fast,
relinquish not,
D O N 'T L E T GO!
For
that's the point
when we truly become
LOST SOULS.
© Qwey.ku
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
794
A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree—
Another—on the Roof—
A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves—
And made the Gables laugh—
A few went out to help the Brook
That went to help the Sea—
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls—
What Necklace could be—
The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads—
The Birds jocoser sung—
The Sunshine threw his Hat away—
The Bushes—spangles flung—
The Breezes brought dejected Lutes—
And bathed them in the Glee—
Then Orient showed a single Flag,
And signed the Fete away—
3.9k
I feel as close to you as how wind is to my skin,
I feel as powerful with you as how I am with a gun.
I feel as courageous next to you as how sky divers are with working parachutes.
I feel as sad without you as departing rain drops from dark hovering clouds.
I feel as bored dismissing you as a good book read by a blind man.
I feel as far from you as how the visible sun is if you look from Earth.
I feel as clouded missing you as the moon is clouded by nebulae.
I feel as dejected promising you as government cronies over promising development.
I feel as lonely not seeing you as Golden Retrievers are when their masters are not around.
I feel as blatantly bloated next to you as over-heated air balloons raise up the shiny sky.
I feel as speechless around you as unprepared speakers in a conference hall.
And at the end, I feel as close to you as how my eyes met yours then cheekily, we detached our sight and pretend that we were never close at all.
I feel close to you still
but even closer
to sin.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Me - why sometimes I like to be with you?
My loneliness - because sometimes people be tired of crowd and want to be with me.
Me - And why so?
I have always heard that you are bad because you always bring sadness.
My loneliness - that's not true. I never bring sadness. When the people are rejected or dejected by someone then they want to be with me. It's not me who have gave them sadness but because of sadness they come to be with me.
Me - Yes, you are right. But am not rejected or dejected then why I am liking to be with you?
My loneliness - because you are tired of this fake and crowded world. And when the people get tired of crowd and fake smile on their lips they want to be with me. But they can't live with me always. Not even you, because in this big world all need someone.
Me - but that will be selfishness to be with you only in sadness and then blame you for their sadness.
My loneliness - it's not someone's faults. I am guest here. And guests are never mean to be stay forever.
Me - but a friend can stay together
My loneliness - means?
Me - means by living separately also a friend are there for you always
And whenever I will need you be with me and whenever you will need me I will be with you always.
My loneliness - you can promise it? Because it's easy to say but hard to do
Me - it's hard but not impossible and promises are never meant to be broken
My loneliness - OK so we are friends?
Me - yes we are friends forever
My loneliness - yes forever and ever
And thank you for being my friend and for understanding me
Me - you are always be welcome
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 11:12 AM UTC
It was a chance meeting, I knew not what was ahead,
random walks, conversations, coffees and smokes,
days into nights and then early mornings...
chances random and make believe,
hints, assumptions, misconceptions and conditions.
I wanted to but couldn't see behind the blur.
It was too eerie when i came out all alone,
but I could see you across the road.
You held my hand till I was safe.
You let go when I wanted to not...
Days diluting into painful night times,
actions tormenting, waves of coldness.
Through months, often shivering,
crying, running back to you.
Dejected, lonely, you'd hold me,
take away all my pain.
Sometimes, you would cause it,
the rain would howl and cry...
There was a sudden change of heart,
you wanted more sunshine than rain,
no tears, coming close again,
tongue-tied, lip-locked joys...
In a blink of an eye, you vanished.
Punishing me for sins undone.
Thorned and unloved i hold on...
the void takes up all the space...
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
Kimos, son of Menedoros, a young Greek-Italian,
devotes his life to amusing himself,
like most young men in Greater Greece
brought up in the lap of luxury.
But today, in spite of his nature,
he is preoccupied, dejected. Near the shore
he watched, deeply distressed, as they unload
ships with ***** taken from the Peloponnese.
G r e e k l o o t: b o o t y f r o m C o r i n t h.
Today certainly it is not right,
it is not possible for the young Greek-Italian
to want to amuse himself in any way.
3.5k
The number you have dialed has been disconnected....
No one is here to take your call.
The reason why, is because you disrespected.
The last time I trusted you, I can't recall.
I don't know why you even phoned.
Unless it was just out of habit.
You must be alone, with no one at home,
for this you can take all the credit.
The number you have dialed has been disconnected...
I would prefer that you never call again.
I've moved on, but I'm not feeling dejected,
It's time for my new life to begin.
You can swear once again you will try changing.
Even promise, that you'll always be true.
But once you hang up, a new date you'll be arranging,
You'll no longer be making my heart blue.
The numbeer you have dialed has been disconnected...
That is what the recording kept playing.
But, I heard clearly to me, directed,
all that my love wasn't saying.
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 8:45 PM UTC
Not too distant beach tree sways in distance
Mandala Rorschach blot patterns dance like celebrating Salish drum circle
There's a hallow college sound of crime show to my left
Bickering with the occasional crush of,
**** my job is stressful."
A sleeping armadillo composed of quarks reflective within a drop of water
Fallen from the bottom-bulged North 49 canteen
A foot and 3/4ths away the snow-white generic of a ***** coffee mug formerly host to a Tetley green stands silent
Reminiscent of the eternal stillness of a mountain range
Fibonacci's name rings inexplicably from tilting branches
And I can't help but wonder if I would be grasping his hand in grasping a branch.
19 years alive and I can't help asking if I've grown-up too fast
Or simply grown into myself.
I feel old
young
and somewhere indescribable most of the time
and it's funny I cannot even fathom the length of 22 years.
A deflated balloon yellow like trend pants or sunrise sits like dejected missile
No longer screaming towards Gaza
No longer screaming.
A Holiday Inn Express pen sits with a ready-call number
Part of its mustang flame
If its quality of penmanship has any parallel to hotel service
Perhaps I'll stick with hostels.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
Avian slave beneath arrays of decay
Beneath the will to move on
She is so rusted and gone
Afar from quintessence crossed
Into the realm of the lost
Slipped into the clutch of the maw
Of madness it’s savage
Where the judge is the jury
Executioners laugh at the magnanimous
Everything stripped from the flesh
Nothing left to see but a dejected show in the throes of wreckage
Because these lost prophets sit upon a stolen perch looking down on a fallen goddess
A desecrated figure devoid of any promise
The primary custodian of a land forever conquered
A society gripped in the chokehold of despair
Perpetual attunement to ruin consumes a flock of sheep in the leviathan’s lair
And the pretty little songbird
Torn asunder by each verse
Learns that from her inception
She never was a free bird
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC
They said the fairest of the goddesses
Was the one to give us love,
The one to fetch the maidens
And bring the boys their girls.
What they meant by fair was beautiful,
Not just or right or equitable,
For it hardly seems fair
That she's a goddess,
Enthroned on a mountain with a mirror in her hand
And we're all of us mere mortals,
Hapless humans,
With our ribcages wide open,
With no bone to shield our vulnerable ventricles
And no sense to tell us to cover our chests.
It's no wonder that this otherworldly seduction
Can ****** us
And string us along
And consume us
Until we forget what life was
Before love caught us.
It seems impossible
That these frail, impermanent bodies
Can hold such ethereal infatuation;
It's too strong,
So it ravages us,
Strips away dignity,
Rips away common sense,
And seizes all control.
Our little human selves
Never stood a chance.
Tell me, Aphrodite,
Does it make you laugh to watch us struggle?
From your lofty vantage point,
Do you giggle when the rational become foolish,
When the thinkers become unfocused,
When the innocent become broken?
Does it please your fair reflection
When those devoted mortals go to ungodly lengths
For this love that you inflict,
Until they have nothing left of themselves,
Until they're worn to the very bones
That couldn't protect their unsuspecting hearts?
Do you revel in the irony,
Aphrodite,
When, exhausted and dejected
And downright tortured,
They still worship you?
When they bow
And sacrifice
In gratitude?
When we miserable mortals
Thank you for these feelings that destroy us,
Because for tiny moments
We felt transcendentally good.
Perhaps she'd had better intentions,
That goddess Aphrodite,
Thought that she was filling our open hearts
With something to give them meaning.
Maybe she thought
We'd left our ribcages open on purpose,
That we'd all simply been waiting for her,
Wondering when she'd reach down her power
And give us a love to cling to.
Or,
It could be that she had it right,
That our chests were left gaping
And our hearts were left empty
So that Aphrodite could look away from her mirror,
Smile from the clouds,
And send us someone to make us whole.
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:39 PM UTC
I cannot recall the precise moment of my arrival at Anhedonia
memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant
precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story
some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia
some fatal blow that cinched the deal
some horrid event that could not heal
some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved
some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved
nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture
élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate
I was quite lighthearted before the inferno
before my brain broke
ennui now a turgid companion
feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine
esurient unrelenting usurper of happiness
go away, leave me alone, relish some other soul's madness
gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth
miseries are mine, many the days since birth
better I was carried from the womb straight to the grave
a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain
it's as if I was born into a well
but these waters they burn
the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell
Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor
your verse is an adversary
a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm
a sordid verbosity assuring no norm
a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration
some alliance of fulminating disquietude
the cost for the fare on the adventure to:
the stunning moment you too will visit Anhedonia
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
I got a thing for you
And I’m pretty sure you know it
I regret yesterday
For I let my feelings show it
Ever wonder why
The skies weep from above?
It’s to hide the tears
Of the dejected from rejection
There’s no objection
To my explanation
Pardon my lack of discretion
We do it all for love
We do it all for hate
There’s no neutral territory
There no time for explanation
There’s no time to set my mind straight
If only you could fall in love with me
Then we do it all
For the possible chance
That our one true slice of heaven
Will be sweeter than,
All our past miscalculations
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 4:46 AM UTC
The French man looks up toward the sky,
Cigarette puffs mocking the minute traces
Of clouds above.
Each puff transient like his youth
Long since sunken,
Immersed in sand and snow.
He plays his accordion,
A forlorn and saggy tune,
One that he had learned in his ancient youth.
A tune with no words,
No meaning.
A love song,
A battle hymn?
As the old hands wove the song together
Only three people noticed.
A woman who was walking alone
Suddenly began to cry
For her lover who had abandoned
Her with child.
A Polish grandfather just across the street
Cradles his young grandson in his lap,
Telling him stories about his
Experience on the battlefield,
Much to the boy’s enchantment.
Granddaughter leaning against his side
dreaming.
And the old accordion man,
Dejected and forlorn
continued to sing his song
While the rest of Paris was asleep.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 5:11 PM UTC